


Break

by ImagineYourself



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: A surprising amount of tooth rotting fluff, Arguing, Crying, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Gentle Fucking™, M/M, Makeup Sex, Sad Peter, Very slight dubcon, Wade does a Good, minor blood and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineYourself/pseuds/ImagineYourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Peter wanted to growl. He wanted to lash out. To hurt something, hurt</i> Wade. <i>This was his fault. Everything was the stupid merc's fault and Peter knew it and Wade knew it and everyone and their goddamn mother knew it. He didn't say it. The problem he needed to run from wasn't really Wade, though, it was himself.</i></p><p>Or: Sometimes Peter has to let it all out and Wade just wants him to feel good again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I just wanted to write Peter crying about Gwen and then it turned into this fluffy, disgusting mess of a fic. This is considerably less humorous than other spideypool fic I've written but that's kinda the point of this one.

Peter sat, unmoving, on the head of a gargoyle. Flashes from the past few hours kept running through his mind and behind his eyelids and he wasn't even watching the night sky anymore, just the images of his memories.

He shuddered.

Glad to be alone, he could feel hot, unshed tears gathering in his eyes. He ignored them.

_Peter's hands were shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding, pressing them against the woman's chest. The bullet was too deeply lodged and she gasped for breath. Peter knew he couldn't save her, but he had to try. She had only seconds left._

Balling his hands up into fists, Peter grit his teeth. He shifted minutely, uncomfortable. The sound of someone shuffling behind him was an unwelcome distraction and he turned his head to see a red suit flop over the edge of the roof, body breathing loudly. Peter felt disgusted just by the presence of another person.

“Spidey,” Wade called to him, staggering to his knees and then his feet. “Man, I've never been so jealous of you climbing walls and shit,” he panted. “That was hard work.”

Peter didn't deign to reply. He turned away.

_He was too late. His web shot towards her to move her from the path of the bullet well after it had already hit. Peter watched, horrified, as she crumpled back to the ground, her face a mask of shock. The wound was just under her collarbone._

“ _No!” Peter screamed, his voice far away even to his own ears._

“I see we're going with the, ah, silent treatment,” Wade said mildly, coming to a stop near Peter. He sat down, legs hanging over the edge of the building, appearing uncaring that they were thirty stories up from the noisy streets below. It was nearing two in the morning, but New York was never quiet. Nor, it seemed, was Wade. “That's okay. I can wait.”

Peter wanted to growl. He wanted to lash out. To hurt something, hurt _Wade_. This was his fault. Everything was the stupid merc's fault and Peter knew it and Wade knew it and everyone and their goddamn mother knew it.

He didn't say it.

No, Peter just shifted again so that his hands were between his feet where he crouched, like he was ready to spring if he needed to. He wasn't sure if he'd need to or not, one could never really tell with Wade Wilson. The problem he needed to run from wasn't really Wade, though, it was himself.

_She stood to the side, waiting with a worried expression as Peter squared off against her assailant, Deadpool beside him looking ready for a fight. He had his gun pointed and ready, but Peter had made him promise to not kill, and for the past five months they'd been teaming up, he'd kept his word._

“ _Fuck off, loser,” Wade told the guy, voice hard. “The girl goes free.”_

_Peter barely glanced at his partner, but it was enough for the mook to get the drop on them, trying to duck out of the alley by running right in front of the woman. Peter didn't even have time to move before Wade's finger was pulling the trigger and missing spectacularly in the slow motion view Peter had of the event._

Wade was silent, surprisingly, for a few minutes. Peter took the break to attempt to calm himself, his usual easy control now a thread wrapped around his trigger finger that was dangerously close to breaking.

Finally, he said, “What,” in a perfect monotone.

Wade quietly asked, “Are we gonna talk about this?”

“No.”

“No as in right now or no as in—”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Peter's hands were fists again. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax.

“ _I know that guy,” Wade said as they passed the mouth of the alley. They had been alerted of action while on patrol by the loud whimpering and sobbing of a woman. Wade, ever the gentleman, couldn't resist and tugged Peter along with him to investigate._

“ _You know him?” Peter whispered._

_Wade nodded. He slid his gun from his thigh holster, finger resting to the side of the trigger. “I used to see him when I did regular mercenary business.”_

“ _You mean he's a gun for hire?”_

“ _Something like that.”_

_Peter watched as the guy pressed a knife to the woman's neck, making her breath catch as she tried not to cry. “I wonder if he's being paid for this. Come on,” he urged, pushing Wade closer._

“It's not—”

“Wade Wilson I swear on my uncle's grave if you say 'it's not that bad' I will rip your tongue from your mouth so you'll have to shut the fuck up until it regrows.”

Wade swallowed audibly and Peter could have sighed with relief except he felt absolutely zero relief. He felt un-relief. If such a thing existed. Whatever the opposite of relief was, Peter Parker was experiencing that.

He sighed, shoulders drooping. He knew Wade didn't deserve this treatment, he was just so fed up with himself and life and trying to be a hero and failing at every turn. Really, he just needed a fucking break. Unfortunately, he was about as likely to get one of those as he was to win the lottery or pay off his student debts within the next two years.

“Actually,” Wade started, his voice hesitant, “I was going to say that it's not your fault.”

Peter's entire body stiffened. He didn't even look over in Wade's direction. “Don't say that.”

“It's true! Pete, look, I'm the one that dragged you out tonight and I'm the one that was looking for trouble. Hell, I'm the one that fucking shot—”

“Don't,” Peter pleaded. The single word was soft and broken and said way more than it appeared to. Peter's body shook as he took a deep breath. “Don't,” he said again.

Everything was silent for a few minutes, both men lost in their own thoughts. A car honked far below them.

“I don't get it,” Wade finally said, standing. He paced two steps toward Peter and then two steps back. His hands were clenching and unclenching. “I don't get it!”

“What?” Peter asked, watching him warily.

“Why are you so fucking worked up about this?”

The question appeared innocent, curious even. Wade's voice was so full of confusion and hurt and it had Peter standing before he realized it, balancing easily on the stone creature.

“What do you mean?” Peter found himself asking. Why wasn't the merc worked up about it? That's what he wanted to know.

“Why is this bothering you so much? You didn't pull the trigger. You didn't fuck up. You have no reason to be beating yourself black and blue about this,” Wade all but shouted. He held his head in his hands and paced some more, looking like a lion stalking its cage. But there was no cage, there was no protection for Peter, just a wild animal that might lose its mind any moment.

Peter was so irrationally frustrated with Wade's words that he couldn't at first think of anything to say.

Then, with barely contained loathing, he said, “I couldn't save her.”

“Of fucking course you couldn't save her!” Wade yelled, pointing a finger at him. “You can't save everyone, Peter! We all fuck up sometimes but you can't just let it fucking _ruin_ you!”

“It's not _ruining_ me—”

“Well what the fuck do you call pouting up here, then, huh? What is going on inside that head of yours, Pete? Why won't you fucking _talk_ to me?”

Peter's fists itched to punch him. Instead, he shouted, “I don't want to talk to you! I don't want to look at you! I don't want you to be around me!”

“Because you're angry? With me or with yourself?” Wade demanded. “I'm not leaving you alone, not like this.”

“Of course I'm angry! I'm angry about everything!”

“Then at least be angry at me! It wasn't your mistake. Her life is not on your hands, okay?” Wade shoved his thumb into his own chest. “It's on _mine_.”

“Wade—” Peter wanted to argue, wanted to scream and shout and not let himself get away with what he'd let happen. Again.

“What's with this fucking pity party, Pete?” Wade asked, tone still hot. “People die, it happens. We can't save them all. That would be fucking impossible.”

“I can try!” Peter cried, his voice breaking. He was close to tears, his chest heaving with breath while he tried not to just start sobbing.

“Fine,” Wade said, quieter. “But you didn't kill her. It wasn't your fault. You've never killed anybody.”

At that, those words, poorly chosen and said with such resignation, Peter did sob. His shoulders shook and he stood there, silently, for a long moment before his lungs remembered to breathe and he hiccuped around the air. He crossed his arms around his body and shrank down, landing on his ass.

“Pete?” Wade called distantly.

Peter just curled into himself, holding his head between his knees and actually, really crying. He tore his mask from his face, throwing it aside so he could press the palms of his gloved hands into his eyes. His entire body was shuddering, wracked with convulsive sobs.

Wade was next to him, kneeling, in an instant. “Peter?” he tried again, but the younger man barely heard him.

“That's a lie,” Peter whispered, voice hoarse and shaking.

“What is?”

“I killed someone.”

Wade was quiet for a few moments. A hand touched Peter's shoulder and he tried to shy away from it, but it stuck to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Gwen.” Peter felt broken, just breathing her name aloud again. “I killed Gwen. I couldn't save her.”

There was a hush all around them except for Peter's sniffling, wiping the constant flow of tears from his eyes. He hadn't cried in so long it was coming out of him in tremors and quakes, his lungs shuddering as they constantly forgot and then remembered that he needed air to live.

Then, Wade's arms were around Peter's body, and he was being cradled between Wade's spread legs. The merc rocked him gently back and forth, shushing him quietly with his mouth near Peter's ear.

“You didn't kill Gwen,” he whispered after a while. “And you didn't kill that woman tonight. Not saving someone isn't the same as killing them. You've saved so many lives, you can't let one bad thing tarnish the hundreds of good things you've done. You can't let this take over, baby.”

“I can't just let go,” Peter whispered. His shoulders had stopped trembling but he had yet to lift his head and he was still wiping salty tears from the corners of his eyes.

“You don't have to forget,” Wade told him. “Just, you know, don't let it undermine every great thing you've accomplished just by being Spider-Man.”

Weakly, Peter asked, “How? How can I?”

“You've gotta figure that out, Petey. And until you do, I'll be here to tell you just how amazing you are and I won't let you ever forget it, okay?”

Peter wanted to laugh, but it came out as more of a strangled whine. He took a deep breath and finally untangled his arms from his own body. Wade moved like he was going to back off, but Peter just turned and caught the merc around his middle, shoving his face into Wade's chest.

Slowly, Wade's arms wrapped back around him and he rested his chin on Peter's head.

When Peter finally got uncomfortable with the position, he pulled away and wiped at his nose, face turned downward. Wade's hand caught his chin and he guided Peter to look at him. It was not lost on Peter that this was the first time Wade had ever seen his entire face and he lamented that he probably looked terrible after crying so hard.

He was about to say as much when Wade told him suddenly, “You're beautiful.”

Peter's eyes widened and he lost the tracks to his train of thought. Whatever he had imagined Wade would say, it was nowhere near that.

“Sorry,” Wade muttered, chuckling. He let go of Peter though the unmasked man didn't drop his gaze or his chin again.

“I—” Peter stopped, feeling self-conscious. “I probably look like I've been through hell,” he finally whispered.

Wade seemed to choke on words. “No, you—” He paused, visibly struggling. “You don't,” he said lamely.

Peter tried to smile and he must have succeeded because Wade's hands were cupping his cheeks and the merc's mask made it look like Wade was watching him with a dopey expression. It was probably just the mask.

Backing away, Peter stood, stretching his stiff muscles. He held out a hand, which Wade took, to help his companion to his feet. “I guess we should—” Peter was cut off as Wade's arms were suddenly around his waist and his masked mouth was pressed right up against Peter's lips, kissing him as best as he could through the fabric.

Peter made a muffled noise, his hands resting against Wade's chest though he wasn't pushing him away. Despite the awkwardness of a mask between them, it wasn't a bad kiss. When Wade leaned back, he didn't get to say a word before Peter was taking off the mask and looking at his bare face, eyes wide with shock.

“Pete, this—” Wade didn't have the chance to say anymore because Peter kissed him, rough and demanding, hands pulling on the back of Wade's head.

“I mean it this time, Wade,” Peter told him, panting as he put space between their faces to catch his breath. “Shut up.”

Wade seemed all too willing to oblige, grinning before he leaned in to capture Peter's lips and holding onto his body tightly.

Peter's heart didn't feel magically mended. His head was still running a hundred miles an hour. Pieces of thoughts and memories were still playing over and over. But he had Wade's shoulders under his hands and a warm mouth licking into his own and Peter thought that maybe, just maybe, he deserved this.

“Pete. I—” Wade mumbled after a while, breaking away while his hands flexed their grip on Peter's hips.

“Yeah?”

“I don't want you to cry anymore.” Wade said it almost hesitantly and Peter looked up at his face, a little surprised to see a sad expression there. “I want you to feel good. I wanna make you feel good.”

Uncertainly, Peter whispered, “Wade?”

He laughed, the sound almost self-deprecating, and looked anywhere but Peter. “I don't expect you to be the kind of guy to put out on the first date. And me—I'm, well . . .”

“Wade,” Peter tried again.

“I don't really know how to do much else—”

“You're doing fine.”

“—and I definitely have ulterior motives but, if you'll let me, I can take your mind off of things for a while. I'm real good at that!”

Peter was frowning but not in disgust or unwillingness. Wade's face looked so heartbroken and his voice made Peter think of a kicked puppy and he wanted to _apologize_ except Wade was asking to make _him_ feel good and what kind of asshole would he be to say no to that when he was looking at such expressive eyes.

“Okay,” Peter told him, very quietly. “Okay.”

He couldn't say that Wade's face lit up like he'd gotten a great present or won some money off a scratch ticket because that just wouldn't be true. No, Wade's eyes met Peter's and they held the colors of excitement and devotion and the sweetness of promises to come. It was almost something like l—

“Do you want to—we should maybe go back to my place, you think?” Wade asked, words pouring from his mouth quickly. “I mean. I don't want to seem eager or—or anything, especially after that heart to heart and all and Spidey I—”

“Your place sounds fine,” Peter told him, touching Wade's cheek.

Wade just nodded, smiling hopefully, and hugged Peter to his chest with unspoken emotion. When they parted, Wade kissed him with a tenderness unbecoming to a heartless, cold-blooded killer like most people assumed he was. Peter knew better.

“Come on,” Peter said, pulling away though he was loathe to do so. “I can swing faster than we can walk.” He scrounged around for his discarded mask, pulled it on, and turned around, arms out in invitation. Wade clambered onto his back, mask also replaced, easily held up with Peter's unnatural strength.

Wade gave directions into Peter's ear as he'd only been there once before. It was a little strange, having Wade hanging onto him, chin hooked over Peter's shoulder and his arms and legs tight around Peter's body. He'd never really thought about Wade sexually before. Sure, one of the guy's quirks was to flirt near constantly and make grabby hands at Peter's ass but Peter himself—despite a burgeoning attraction—had never seriously considered their friendship becoming anything more than just that, a friendship.

Even as he touched down on the sidewalk by Wade's building, he wondered if everything would change after this.

Before he had the chance to chicken out, Wade was tugging him by the hand into the building and up to his apartment, which was exactly as messy and lived-in as Peter remembered. Mismatched furniture and odd knick-knacks lying around gave the place a homey feel and Peter almost wanted to call the whole thing off, order a pizza, and fall asleep on the couch.

But when he turned back to Wade and saw the merc lifting his mask off to bare his face again, Peter's breath caught.

Wade noticed and he rubbed the mask between his fingers, looking down at it sullenly. “Now you've seen me, I'd totally get it if you don't wanna—”

“Stop,” Peter said, more of a request than a command. He took the step forward that he needed to be inside Wade's personal space and laid a hand on his broad chest. “I want to. It's just . . .” He paused, unable to find the right words.

Wade's hands lifted to pull Peter's mask off and reveal his downcast eyes. “I'll take care of you,” he murmured.

Peter looked up. He was nervously biting his lip and suddenly Wade was right there, kissing him with all the same heat and feeling he'd had before. Peter's arms were slung around Wade's neck and the merc's hands slid down his back, over his butt, and gripped his thighs until Peter all but jumped onto him, legs wrapping around Wade's hips.

Wade held him up effortlessly and Peter felt the stirrings of arousal in his belly, his mind turning over the idea of super strength in bed. He gasped when one of Wade's hands made its way under Peter's suit and grabbed at the flesh of one ass cheek. Then they were moving. Wade's legs carried them towards his bedroom and Peter shivered, anticipation and doubt clouding his mind.

“You're thinking too much,” Wade said after nipping at Peter's tongue before breaking away to set him down on his bed.

Peter was holding himself up on his elbows, lips red and slick with saliva, his hair an atrocious mess from his mask. His legs were spread just a little but Wade was still standing at the foot of the bed, eyes unreadable from so far away. “Then make me stop thinking at all,” Peter whispered boldly.

Wade unhooked his thigh holster, his belt, the straps for his katanas which wrapped around strong shoulders. He never took his eyes from Peter's face even when Peter glanced down to appreciate the entirety of Wade in his suit.

Then the top of the suit was being pulled off and Peter's lips parted around a sharp intake of breath. Scars and damage littered Wade's skin but all Peter wanted to do was _touch_. So he got to his knees at the edge of the mattress and let his fingers roam Wade's muscled abdomen. Peter realized quickly that it wasn't enough to sate his curiosity and he ripped his gloves from his hands to drop to the floor before his palms caressed the bumpy texture of Wade's chest.

“Horrible, isn't it?” Wade muttered.

Peter's eyes raised to see Wade watching with rapt attention. “Different,” was all the hero replied.

Wade leaned over him and slid his hands down Peter's sides until he found the edges of Peter's suit, helping to pull his top off. Peter was disappointed the moment he had to stop touching Wade, but he soon forgot that as he was pushed back into the bed so Wade's fingers could take their turn exploring Peter's own chest.

He kneeled above Peter, between the younger man's legs, until he bent over to kiss Peter again and rub the hard nubs of Peter's nipples between his fingertips. Peter sighed into the kiss, hands touching every part of Wade that he could reach and reveling in the gentle sweetness Wade was showing him.

Peter's mind ran over thoughts of Wade being harsh, being rough, and he nearly moaned at the images his brain provided for him. He could imagine fingers leaving bruises all over his body and being fucked six ways to Sunday, teeth marks covering his skin. But this . . . this soft, almost teasing way they were touching now? It was just as good as anything his head could conjure up.

“Can I take your pants off, baby boy?” Wade asked bluntly, lips against Peter's jaw.

“Yeah.” It was the only coherent thing Peter could reply with.

Wade moved back and Peter almost whined at the loss. Then Wade's hands were around his ribs, feeling huge, and sliding down Peter's sides to catch the top of his spandex pants and start pulling them down.

Peter caught Wade's wrists and said, “Wait.” His cheeks were hot and his breath was short and he didn't know why he was stopping Wade. “I just . . .”

“We don't have to do anything, Petey,” Wade told him sincerely, watching with solemn eyes. “If you changed your mind—I mean, I've waited fucking ages for this but I'll wait longer.”

Frowning, Peter let go of his wrists. “What do you mean you've waited ages?”

Wade looked like he was about to laugh but thought better of it. He shuffled backwards but didn't try to pull Peter's pants down anymore just yet. Like he was choking, he said, “I told you I have ulterior motives, baby boy. I've been jerking off to the sight of your perky behind for months.”

“Oh.” It felt like it shouldn't have been news to Peter, but it was. He relaxed a little, pondering the information.

“Can I—?” Wade asked casually.

Peter took a breath. “Yeah, yes, sorry.”

“Don't apologize, Pete. Tell me if you're uncomfortable, I want you to want this.” The way Wade said it made Peter want to kiss him senseless but he settled for brushing a hand against Wade's face before the merc moved out of reach. He resumed undressing Peter and soon had him completely naked, squirming with embarrassment as Wade just stood staring at him, hands paused halfway to trying to take his own pants off.

“Stop it,” Peter grumbled, fighting the urge to cover himself despite being half-hard and growing harder every second Wade's eyes were on him.

“What?” Wade asked stupidly. He appeared to gather himself because he was quickly stripping out of the rest of his suit and returning to the bed between Peter's legs.

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands. _Like you love me,_ he wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Like you wanna eat me alive.” It wasn't technically untrue.

Wade chuckled and the sound hit Peter with a wave of arousal. “But I do, baby boy.” His hands slid up Peter's thighs and to his hips, thumbs kneading into the skin there for a moment. “Some other time, I think.” He paused. “Will you trust me?”

Peter uncovered his eyes and met Wade's darkened gaze. “Yes,” he whispered, but it was enough.

“Good,” Wade purred in response. He reached past Peter and grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand beside the bed which Peter had completely glossed over since his attention had been otherwise occupied when they entered the bedroom.

Fingers traced the line of Peter's cock and he shuddered, arms falling to either side on the bed so he could watch Wade's face as Wade stroked him slowly. Peter didn't really know what to expect, what Wade would give him, but he was definitely not expecting Wade to immediately pour lube over his fingers and rub against Peter's hole as he guided one leg up to Peter's chest.

Peter bit his lip against a moan but he couldn't hold the second one in as Wade actually pushed his finger into him and _holy mother_ Peter had never had anything _inside_ before. It wasn't very good, felt strange if he was honest, but the idea—the sight—that one of Wade's fingers was inside his body made his stomach tremble and his skin feel hot.

“Fuck, Petey, you're so tight,” Wade told him, eyes wide. He was looking at where his finger disappeared inside of Peter's ass and he pulled it out before pushing back in again. “I never thought fingering someone would be as hot as this is.”

One of Peter's hands covered his mouth as he groaned, partly in embarrassment and partly in want, in need.

“No, no, don't do that,” Wade told him. He reached up his free hand to pry Peter's fingers away. “Let me hear you, baby. I wanna hear you.”

Peter panted but nodded and Wade smiled so fucking endearingly just before he tugged on Peter's rim, stretching the muscle. “Fuck!” Peter cried, his hands grappling for purchase in the sheets.

“Have you ever—?” Wade didn't need to finish the question as Peter was already shaking his head. “Oh, _fuck_ , oh God.” The merc leaned in to rub his face against Peter's stomach for a few moments and then whispered, “ _Virgin_.”

Peter couldn't stop the strangled laugh that left his mouth and Wade looked up at him with a mix of lust and amazement. He pushed another finger inside Peter and that got the younger man to tense up momentarily before he relaxed when Wade kissed his abdomen.

“Feel good yet?” Wade asked. He tugged on Peter's rim again, pushing and prodding and sliding his fingers deeper before pulling them out only to drive them in again. It was making Peter whimper.

“Yes?” Peter answered finally.

Wade huffed a laugh and the movement of his hand changed, pressing against _something_ , and Peter practically screamed as his hips bucked. Wade had to hold him down with his other hand. Dazed, Peter barely realized that Wade had added another finger and was steadily thrusting the digits into Peter's body at a relaxed but insistent pace.

Peter's spine arched and his body writhed and he got one hand on Wade's shoulder, fingers digging into scarred flesh, but the other got buried in his own hair, not really having anything else to hold onto. His hips were rolling to meet Wade's hand and the _sound_ , the fucking noises from his wet ass and his own raw throat were enough to drive a man insane.

Finally, Wade pulled his fingers from Peter's hole with obvious reluctance. He moved up beside Peter, planted a quick kiss on the hero's lips as Peter looked at him with confusion, and then sat against the headboard, legs splayed out.

The lube covered fingers he'd used in Peter's ass were rubbing the sticky liquid into his own cock, proudly jutting from his body. “Come on,” Wade urged. “Get over here.”

Peter sat up, feeling weird, and clambered onto Wade's lap. “You want me to ride you?” he asked.

Wade shook his head. “Not exactly. Just. Just relax, okay?”

Skeptical, Peter nodded, and he settled in, poised above Wade's thick erection. With careful hands, Wade guided Peter down onto him, the stretch uncomfortable but not quite painful until Peter was fully seated, his legs folded on either side of Wade's hips. The merc lifted his own knees, coaxing Peter to lean back against his legs and get used to the feel of Wade's cock inside him.

Peter shuddered. His hands rested on Wade's chest but he moved them to the edge of the headboard as he bent forward and caught Wade in a kiss. Wade's fingers were wrapped around Peter's waist and though the grip was none too gentle, Peter felt safe, surrounded by Wade.

Experimentally, Peter rolled his hips. The groan he received from Wade said that it had not been a bad idea. Lips parted, Peter watched Wade's face as he repeated the motion, gratified to see Wade's eyes slide shut and his face tilt back.

“Slow,” Wade breathed and Peter couldn't agree more.

The movement of their bodies was almost agonizingly relaxed even though Wade would sometimes jerk his hips up, face twisted, when Peter shifted. It felt good. Really fucking good. Peter wanted to kiss Wade again but he also loved watching the man's face change with pleasure and agony of the sweetest kind.

Peter found himself breathing hard even though neither of them were moving very much, content to languorously rock together even as it brought Peter closer and closer to the precipice of orgasm. His fingers touched Wade's skin, thumbs brushing under his eyes and palms running over his shoulders and biceps. Wade's muscles flexed and relaxed almost regularly underneath Peter, but he never left his tight grip around Peter's middle.

“Touch me,” Peter finally asked, his voice broken and the words pleading. “Wade, please.”

Under him, Wade shivered. His eyes opened to reveal desperation and Peter wanted to drown in them. Whether the desperation came from a need for release or something else, Peter didn't know.

“Petey,” Wade breathed, the name like a benediction on his lips. “I—I need to—”

“Me too.” Peter reached with a hand to move one of Wade's, enticing him to take Peter's dick. Wade did, with some silent encouragement, and he stroked Peter slowly, thumb brushing against the head, wrist twisting. Peter's head tilted back, his eyes shut with pleasure. Wade's mouth was on his neck, teeth grazing but not biting too hard, and Peter could only moan with each breath.

He moved a little faster, rising up partway before sinking back down, not really putting in much effort but letting Wade know that he was _so close_. Peter whined Wade's name and the merc just hummed, tongue on Peter's neck, fist a little tighter around Peter's cock.

Then Peter was coming, body rolling, muscles tensing. His semen got all over Wade's stomach and Peter's hands were cupping Wade's jaw as he kissed him with barely moving lips, just wanting to feel their mouths together.

“Pete,” Wade gasped, low and unsteady. He jerked his hips a few more times into Peter's clenching hole before he came, breath leaving him in a groan.

Both of Wade's hands settled back around his waist but Peter didn't want to let go, just breathing in what Wade was breathing out, half-heartedly trying to kiss him though his lips weren't really working. Neither of them were moving any longer but both of them were trying to catch their breaths.

Peter spoke first, whispering, “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Wade replied, just as quietly. His fingers started soothingly rubbing into Peter's skin.

“I'm . . . yeah, I'm okay.”

“Then so am I.”

Peter smiled but he hid it in Wade's neck. They didn't speak for a long few moments until Peter asked, “What now?”

Wade took a long time to suggest, “Round two?”

“Maybe later,” Peter told him, grimacing. His ass was feeling a bit uncomfortable and he wanted to lie down but he feared that moving away from Wade might result in this precious moment's bubble suddenly bursting. “I . . .”

“Yeah?”

“I kinda just wanna stay here for a while.”

Wade sighed, but it wasn't in a bad way. He seemed content and lifted a hand to stroke Peter's hair with. “Whatever you want, baby boy.”

Peter smiled and went to kiss him again, stopping only when he saw that Wade's eyes were closed and his lips were drawn in a pleasantly satisfied curl. “Hey, Wade?” Peter asked, voice soft in the quiet which surrounded their little bubble.

“Hmm?” Wade's eyes didn't open.

Peter touched his cheek. There were a dozen different sentences on the tip of his tongue, all fighting to be the one that Peter would say out loud. He didn't quite know what he really wanted to say, what words could give meaning to the way Peter's heart was clenching in his chest and his eyes were watering again, this time with not unhappy tears.

“Thanks,” was what he finally settled on. “For caring about me.”

At that, Wade's eyes at last opened and he looked at Peter with a mix of emotions. He brought a finger to Peter's cheek to brush a tear from flushed skin. “Well, it's not like I can turn it off, you know.”

Peter's laugh was a bit wheezy and he pushed his lips against Wade's, hoping his tongue could say all the things he couldn't voice. He figured that Wade got the memo because he was kissing back with easy enthusiasm and catching the strands of Peter's hair between his fingers.

Peter, with his mind ever turning, figured maybe this was the break he'd been needing in his life. Maybe Wade was what he needed. And he was really, really okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't wanna leave any implications about Wade's Magical Healing Dick™, but like. We all know it's true. I hope this made you smile at least once, thanks for reading.


End file.
